


Forgive Me, Father

by fandomscolliding



Category: Batman (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans, Teen Titans (Comics), Young Justice, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 18:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomscolliding/pseuds/fandomscolliding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He heard his name like a whisper on the wind—sadness and regret and lies sliding in one ear and out the other as the door was blown off its hinges. He could hear the heavy swoosh of a Kevlar cape as his family leaves him and he smiles. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgive Me, Father

Tim couldn’t help but wonder when it had all gone so wrong. When had it gone from flying to free falling to crashing into the dirt.

He could hear the police outside the walls of the bank. When had he gotten so careless? Sirens blared, painting blue and red squares onto the inside of the vault, rubies and diamonds and gold glinting like secrets and regrets and the sweetest lies he had ever heard.

He takes a breath, feels salty sweat drip like tears down his face. It had all started with a promise—he would never forget and he would never return. It had started with a stubborn father and a prodigal son. It had started with a uniform in a case, a cape on the ground, footsteps echoing as he stormed out of the cave. And it ended with this. He was the latest failure in a long line of failing Drakes, the latest regret in a list of regrets a mile long, all starting with the name Batman and ending with the name Wayne. Because he was a Wayne—in love with dreams half remembered and people long gone, and he was a Drake—with dragons hoarding gold and mothers forgetting sons, and above all he was a hero. But that was a lifetime ago. It was before one too many people died. It was before he hung up canary yellow and spring green and became a creature of black bars and scarlet blood.

He knows that the police are not alone. Somewhere, creeping like shadows in the vents and crawling like smoke along the walls was his family. They would catch him as surely as a spider caught a fly. He was too far in the net, one stroke too far from turning back.

The rest of them were still heroes, they had the scars like knots, carrying memories and hurts that would never leave, but still they carried on and on and on. Not him though. He left them to their half-truths and hidden secrets. He became a thief—taken in like another stray by Catwoman. She taught him the tricks; lies that he half knew and would never forget. And he found that once he started up he couldn’t stop. There was a thrill in the crimes—a sort of subliminal fuck you to the heroes that could never save the people he loved. It was siding with Luthor, because he was the one who had created his best friend. It was turning his back on the S shield because it never saved the ones who mattered the most. It was walking away from one cave of shadows only to fall into another.

And it had all lead him here. The smooth metal of the gun in his hand was like a cold kiss—a promise of release and endings long foretold. He heard the snick of a bullet as he loaded it—when had he started carrying guns, when had he stopped caring about who lived and who died?

The windows rattled as SWAT teams stormed by, a display of power and force and the full wrath of the law because he was dangerous and deadly and everything he had never wanted to be.

He heard his name like a whisper on the wind—sadness and regret and lies sliding in one ear and out the other as the door was blown off its hinges. He could hear the heavy swoosh of a Kevlar cape as his family leaves him and he smiles. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.

He spreads his arms, drops the gun, and it lands with a clatter that echoes in the empty chambers of his heart.

They rush at him, and he goes down like water sliding off Gotham’s roofs. And he laughs as they pull him through the door, as they unmask him, as they put him on trial. He sees his family in court, and they are crocodile tears and memories half forgotten and love half remembered. They ask him how he pleads. He turns and looks Bruce straight in the eye. _Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. ___

Tim says an Our Father, dedicating it to the masked king in the darkness, the only Father he has ever known, and lets out a breath. This is it—this is the Hail Mary pass, his last chance for redemption, for resurrection, for relief. The knife is warm in his hand, almost like the touch of a father, a brother, a friend. And he smiles as he carves memories and regrets and the sweetest lies he has ever heard into his skin. _Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. ___


End file.
